


blood still stains when the sheets are washed

by fantastiken



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7161362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantastiken/pseuds/fantastiken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanghyuk's stare on the improvised pit is intent. He seizes the guys' strengths, compares them to his own and scoffs because he knows neither of them will survive that fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blood still stains when the sheets are washed

**Author's Note:**

> ~ warning: kinda graphic descriptions of violence and corpses, mentions of past abuse and lots of death overall
> 
> ~ i saw [this picture](https://40.media.tumblr.com/c937b1ec4d3be3e6b8ee99e5d6fc7b62/tumblr_o5xva9UOhD1ui96c1o1_1280.jpg), thought "oh, they look like street fighters looking at two guys beating the shit out of each other" and then proceeded to skyrocket into hell
> 
> ~ title taken from melanie martinez's sippy cup

The air is humid, thick and hard to breathe, even more so down there in the suburbs. It looks like it’s going to rain any second, the heat is suffocating. 

It’s not like they want to stop and look at the scene that’s unfolding in front of them, but they have no other choice if they want to cross the dingy alley and reach their destination at the other end of the bridge before sundown. Or before it rains, for that matter. The fight has just started and it seems to lean towards the dirty end of the spectrum, no mediator in sight and only the roar of a frenzied audience to shield the two fighters from the rest of the world. 

In the air lays already the cloying scent of putrid mud, grease and blood. Death will overtake them in no time. 

Sanghyuk clicks his tongue, clearly annoyed, before climbing expertly to the nearest low roof he finds. A hand is offered to Jaehwan, who takes it and begrudgingly jumps next to him. Taekwoon climbs on his own, apathetic and quiet. They’re a few feet above the dirty ground, and the view of the fight is excellent. Not that the fight is a nice sight to see. 

It’s obvious that the two fighters aren’t experienced and have no idea what they’re doing. The crowd howls when one of them kicks the other in the gut and makes him spit blood all over the dirty pit. In a few seconds, they’re beating each other up again with no trace of gracefulness, technique or respect for the other, spitting venom and acid past crooked teeth to try and throw their opponent off balance and gain the upper hand. Foul play at its finest. 

Sanghyuk clenches his fists, angry that they have to witness such a low scene, livid because everything he’s breaking his knuckles for everyday gets ridiculed in unsupervised vulgar brawls all the time. He glances at Jaehwan, at the cut still not completely healed that crosses his cheek and his bandaged fingers, and seethes quietly. Taekwoon’s hand comes to rest firmly at the nape of his neck, his silent way of telling Sanghyuk that he gets him but that Sanghyuk needs to control himself. They don’t want to draw attention to themselves, not with such a crowd. He should have gotten used to injustice by now the same way he got used years ago to the dull ache of his permanently broken eyebrow or his open wrists. 

Suddenly, a jackknife is pulled from a hidden pocket and a thundering cloud in the distance announces that the fight won’t last too long. 

Jaehwan doesn't even want to look; it makes him sick that they have to kill each other for a living— even though it's the only thing they can do, the only thing he's good at. Taekwoon observes quietly, slightly invested but not paying full attention either; he knows he plays in a completely different league. His hand still rests on Sanghyuk’s neck, and his fingers curl at the same time he holds Jaehwan’s wrist wordlessly. Sanghyuk's stare on the improvised pit is intent and he seizes the guys' strengths, compares them to his own and scoffs because he knows neither of them will survive that fight. 

All of it is nasty, not pretty, but it's the life they have to live. 

///// 

The three of them have been friends for years. 

A clique of criminals is what Jaehwan calls them. Most of the time it is meant as a joke, but there are times when Jaehwan’s eyes would go dark, clouded, and his words become burning poison and he does mean harm. 

Those times, Taekwoon is quick to pick him up from his shirt collar and ask him if he'd rather be home. 

It's cruel, because Taekwoon knows as well as Sanghyuk does that the last thing Jaehwan wants to do is be home. Or what used to be home for him, at least. They know that Jaehwan would rather feel someone else's bones splitting horrifyingly under his fists than his own helplessness leaving him at the mercy of others in that big mansion. 

It's cruel that Taekwoon reminds him because Jaehwan's eyes go wide every time and he suddenly looks like a kid who’s about to cry, scared of the most terrifying nightmare. He barely ever does, though. He's learned not to cry like he learned that he was worth more than he was told back home all those years ago. 

Jaehwan knows it and accepts the cruelty. Deep inside he thanks Taekwoon even through the flashbacks his harsh words have triggered, because he'd rather feel hot blood bathing him than the coldness of marble tiles under his feet and unsolicited hands on his body. 

///// 

Sanghyuk is not like Jaehwan, has never been. He never escaped a mansion; hell, he'd never seen one up close for that matter. 

Unlike Jaehwan, Sanghyuk was born in the pit. Not quite literally, but almost. His mother was a good fighter, just like him, and she struggled all her life to keep herself safe with the strength of her fists and the wit she'd passed on to Sanghyuk. She was well-known and respected among her league, made a name for herself when she had nothing to lose. 

Thanks to her Sanghyuk was a born a fighter, and he’s never been afraid of it. He's got a sharp mind, something his enemies have learnt to fear more than his muscles. He didn't always have those, after all. 

Sadly, his mother wasn't around for too long. The situation in the streets became precarious what with the numerous riots and police repression that arose after the official ban of medicine supplies in the suburbs. After that, fights were no longer safe for a while. 

She'd lost a nasty battle when Sanghyuk counted no more than seven years of life, and he was barely a green sprout back then. He was tiny, too thin and too hungry to be feared, but that was precisely what drove him to defeat any and everyone that got in his way. His mother taught him that no matter the situation fear wasn't an option, and so Sanghyuk had never been afraid. 

///// 

No one knows a thing about Taekwoon's past. His piercing eyes tell more than any word he could ever say, so neither Sanghyuk nor Jaehwan have ever asked seriously. That certainly doesn’t mean they don’t wonder. It doesn’t dull down the rumors and their quick steps into everyone’s ears, either. 

In a way, Taekwoon seems to be made of a different skin than the rest of them, like he's been through so much he's needed to build a shield for himself to keep his sanity. He looks numb, though, like all that pain and suffering left him floating in a sea of unconsciousness for too long and he never came to completely. 

However, he's the best companion that both Jaehwan and Sanghyuk could ever ask for. For all his numbness, he's quick to pick on mood shifts and even quicker to bring peace when they’re on the verge of a breakdown. Of breaking each other’s faces with brazen fists. Most days, if not all of them, Taekwoon manages to keep some sort of balance between Jaehwan's self-deprecating, sour comments and Sanghyuk's eagerness to sink his fists into injustice's throat until he hears its neck snap in half. What is surprising is that Taekwoon doesn’t lose it himself, that the fights and all that blood and death doesn’t get to him the way it does to them. 

His calm demeanor is soothing in a way, but no matter how well he tries to mask his feelings, the glint in his eyes during a fight betrays that he's hiding more than he's willing to admit. 

///// 

If the fight itself wasn’t pretty, the aftermath of it all is downright revolting. As Sanghyuk predicted, none of the fighters have survived and now lay dead in grotesque positions observing the tainted world with blind eyes. On the mud-caked ground, scattered, lay one of the opponent’s guts, bloody and covered in grime. The other fighter has got his throat slit. 

The whole alley is the perfect setting of a macabre story. Books could be written about it, about the brutality of both fighters’ fates, about the grease and blood splatters covering the walls of the nearby shacks, the rats running to feast on the fresh meat, the smell of death that now, undoubtedly, wafts into the air and seeps into their very bones. Books could be written about it but this story isn’t pretty enough to be shoved down the filter of romanticization. It would never make a good book, because the only tale to tell is that they all have death looming over them and they’ll more likely end up bloody and underground before long. 

The crowd has dissolved almost completely; there’s nothing to see anymore. No one pays attention to the dead fighters anymore. They’re old news already. 

It doesn’t take long for Jaehwan to hunch down and vomit. Tears are welling up in his eyes, but he doesn’t cry. He’ll probably break down at night, though. Taekwoon sighs. His first impulse is leaning down and running his fingers through Jaehwan’s hair but he stays still; Jaehwan needs space. Sanghyuk hasn’t taken his eyes from the macabre scene on the ground. His jaw is clenched tight, as are his fists. Poison runs through his veins in an acidic race that threatens to burn him from the inside, and the only reason he hasn’t run away is Taekwoon’s hand, firmly clasped on the back of his ratty jacket. 

The alley is now empty. One, two, three seconds, and rain starts pouring down. Life is disgusting but it goes on. 

Sanghyuk, Taekwoon and Jaehwan reach the bridge before sundown, and they never look back.


End file.
